


A Fading Taste of Blood

by Writingfish (idraax)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idraax/pseuds/Writingfish
Summary: Former vampire Trevor ends up in his past and has to fight Dracula again.





	1. Chapter 1

He woke to a pounding headache and warm sunlight dappled on his skin. Groaning, he rolled over and tried to bury his head in the roots of the tree behind him. Wait. Sunlight.

He bolted up and stared at his hands. They weren’t burning. In fact they were not the corpse-grey he remembered but tanned. How? He should be dead, burnt to ashes right now.

Quickly, he felt at his teeth with a hand. His hand tasted terrible; he needed to  _bathe_. But there were no fangs in his mouth. He was human again.  _How_?

He swallowed. Another pulse of pain shot through his head and he groaned. The one thing he didn’t miss about being human, the hangovers. Shakily, he got to his feet, swayed and gripped the tree for balance.

“Why does god shit all over me,” he muttered to the air.

He stumbled, catching himself with a hand that scraped the dirt. His head was going to split open, the pounding growing more intense. Sunlight hurt; the only thing that felt normal.

As he walked, he didn’t notice the thirst at first. It had always been there, a discordant note underneath all of the guilt and pain. A constant ache in his fangs and weariness in his being. Eventually, it had become easier and easier to push away. But, now, this body needed a drink,  _badly_.

He patted at his clothes and found a small flask, nearly empty but holding a few drops of clear liquid. He uncapped it and drained. It didn’t taste like anything, but a dim memory stirred. Water. It was water. Had it always tasted like nothing?

His stomach rumbled, breaking him out of his thoughts. Shit. Humans needed food.  _He_  needed food.

He groaned. If he remembered correctly, Gresit should be around here somewhere. He could get food, perhaps a drink. Not ale, never again. Grumbling, he staggered off into the day. 

* * *

His memories of Gresit were apparently worse than what the city actually looked like. It was still intact for the most part, with bloodstains on the walls and flies buzzing about. People were about, scrubbing fresh blood off the statues and removing entrails from the buildings.

He wandered through the city, eventually reaching the market which seemed to be doing good business even in these times. He picked up a piece of dried goat with what money he had. It wasn’t much, but it’d do for breakfast. His purse was light; he’d have to find a way of earning more soon.

Moving on, he meandered through the market, stopping occasionally to talk to people. Most were afraid. The demon hordes came at night and their eyes flickered towards the sky as if making sure it was still day. He understood, he did that too.

There were rumors of a ‘Sleeping Soldier’ who slept beneath the city. It sounded important, it  _felt_  important. But, the only thing that could remain asleep for that long was a vampire and Dracula was awake, ravaging Wallachia. It couldn’t be him.

But, it was important. He knew that deep in that locked part of him that he had buried after they had  _died_ , after Dracula had turned him into  _this_. No, he wasn’t anymore. He was  _human_  now. He could walk freely in the sun, no longer thirsted for blood.

Grief roiled within him, still sharp even centuries after. He sucked in a breath, nearly choked on the piece of goat. It was surprisingly grounding, reminded him he was here, alive.

Wait.

His thoughts ground to a halt and he slammed straight into a nearby wall. Gresit wasn’t a pile of rubble. He was  _alive_.  _They_  were alive.

He took in his surroundings more closely, noting the absence of streetlights, the mostly open skyline, the clothing. He was in the  _past_.

He was in the past and Sypha and Alucard were  _alive_. He could see them again, hear their voices, feel their touch. He could change things. He picked up his pace and for the first time in centuries, hope bloomed in his heart.

* * *

He still fell through the floor.

“So much for those reflexes,” he grumbled, picking himself off the floor and flapping at his shirt to get rid of all the dust.

The air smelled musty and carried a hint of rot. Thankfully, he had human senses now and couldn’t smell what else it might have carried. There were still torches on the walls. He wasn’t beneath the catacombs yet; he’d need to go deeper.

He set off into the dark, one hand brushing against the whip. The whip didn’t burn this time and he knew he’d have to get used to using it again. None of the other ones he had made had been as good.

The air grew fresher as he made his way downwards. The unlit torches changed to lamps and there was the low, buzzing hum of machinery. Soon, a large open room came into view and as he stepped into it, he noticed the statues.

_Sypha_

She was here. He walked up to her statue, stared at her face. He had forgotten the way her hair looked, though he could never forget the piercing blue of her eyes. He frowned, reaching out a hand to touch cold stone. Why was she a statue? He was forgetting something again, something important.

A piercing beam of light came towards him. Ah, the Cyclops.

He dodged, ducking behind a nearby pillar. A hand went for the whip, unlatching it from the belt. The Cyclop’s thunderous footsteps came towards him and he broke cover, running for another pillar as the beam came at him again.

He flung the whip out. It moved swifter than his old ones had done. This was what it was made for, to sear the flesh from monster’s bones. He dodged. The Cyclops followed.

“Sorry,” he gasped at Sypha’s statue as he used it to jump into the air and wrap the whip around the beast. It didn’t slow it down, even a little. He moved again, gasping. While this body was strong, it was tiring. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer.

The beam swung towards him, caught the edge of his cloak. He shook off the stone, sending it flying to crash against the far wall. One large arm swiped at him, flung him back. Pain. A high-pitched ringing in his ears.

He picked himself up. No time to wipe at the blood. More dodging. More jumping.  _Now_.

He flung the whip at the beast’s legs and it wrapped around them, sending it crashing to the ground. Dust and debris flew up, stinging at his face as he rushed forward, stabbing the short sword into its eye. It screamed, thrashed and he jumped out of the way. He heaved for breath as it stilled, hands on his knees. God, he didn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

There was a cracking sound and he turned, in time to see Sypha’s statue break apart. She looked younger than he remembered, glancing around before turning abruptly green and lurching over. She didn’t throw up, thankfully; he didn’t have any water to offer.

He cleared his throat and waved when she looked at him.

“Hello,” he said. “Name’s Trevor; the Elder sent me to find you.”

Sypha blinked at him. The greenish tint to her face was fading, a good sign.

“Thank you,” she said, grudgingly.

He nodded, turned away to gesture at the entrance he had come from.

“Come on. We should go let him know you’re alive before we come back to look for your soldier.”

“ _We_?”

Sypha stepped towards him. Her robes swept the floor, sending up clouds of dust. He nodded.

“I have some business with him too. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Sypha said. “We’re already down here. We should go look for him!”

Trevor groaned and turned back to her, crossing his arms over his chest. Had she always been like this? His memory of her was faded, except for the last time he had seen her. He tried not to think about it.

“The Elder, your  _grandfather_  I suspect, thinks you’re  _dead_. The least you could is tell him you’re alive before you go racing off.”

Did she not know how much it hurt to think your only family member dead or did she not care? No matter, they’d go see her grandfather and then go find the soldier.

_Wait for us, Alucard. We’re coming._


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

They fell, again. What was it with this city and its streets? No wonder Gresit had become rubble very quickly and they had never bothered to rebuild.

He picked himself up and turned to help Sypha, who was already moving towards him with a curious look. He dusted off his pants, waiting for her to speak.

“What’s your interest in the Solider? You don’t seem like the type to be interested in myths.”

Trevor laughed.

“I’m not….this myth is different.”

Alucard was a soldier in a way, fighting a war against his father with three other people. A war they had lost. He stared at the stone beneath him, shoulder’s tensing. They’d win this time; he’d make sure of that.

“Different how,” Sypha prompted him.

He looked at her. He was so  _thristy_. His fangs in her neck. Her screams. Dracula laughing in the background.

Broken fingernails dug into his palms. Sypha was here, in front of him, untouched. She would  _be_  untouched.

“This one might actually be real,” he said and turned away from her to head down the corridor. Sypha followed, silent.

Eventually, the corridor brightened. The lamps were lit here and red carpeting appeared beneath their feet. On the far side of the room, stood a dais and on top was a deep green coffin. Had it always been that green? He thought he remembered it being more bluish in color. It didn’t matter, it was Alucard’s coffin.

Thankfully, the humming of the machinery was muted here. Alucard would not be able to remain asleep otherwise. Trevor was very glad he no longer had his vampiric hearing. He would have bled out from his ears halfway through. Now, where was that pressure plate?

He took another step forward and something creaked beneath his foot. There it was.

In front of them, steam came from the dais. Something rumbled far below and Alucard’s coffin hissed open. Alucard floated out, one hand partially covering the long scar on his chest. He bowed his head, letting blonde hair dangle over his face.

He had forgotten how extra Alucard had been when they first met. They’d probably wind up fighting again. Oh god, he hoped not. He had barely gotten used to the Vampire Killer.

“Why are you here,” Alucard asked.

“I came looking for the Sleeping Soldier,” Sypha said. “He will save us from Dracula.”

“And you?”

Alucard turned to Trevor.

Trevor shrugged.

“Technically, we fell down a hole, which is why I’m here. But, yes, I was looking for the Sleeping Soldier too.”

He could sense the heat of Sypha’s glare emanating from his right. He found he missed it. He probably wouldn’t in the future. It was the only thing besides the color of her eyes that he remembered with clarity.

He listened as Sypha explained what had happened to Alcuard. The tone of her voice had a lightness to it even when she was talking about serious topics. It reminded him of a clear stream and he wished he had thought of that earlier before he had forgotten the nuances of her voice.

“And you,” Alucard asked him,“what do you believe?”

Trevor rolled his eyes and groaned.

“ _I_   believe that we don’t have time for this. Dracula’s forces have nearly destroyed every city Wallachia has. What happens when they destroy them all? Stop floating and help us!”

He knew what happened after. Wallachia became a ruin, left to nothing but the animals. Dracula moved on, set his sights on the rest of the world in his rage. They sent their armies, their weaponry, their priests. Eventually, they sealed him and the world was quiet for a time. But, he came back. He always came back.

Alucard floated to the ground and lifted his head. Golden eyes blazed at him, brighter than he remembered. There was a flicker, an afterimage outlined in red and Alucard was before him, lifting up his chin.

“There’s something different about you,” he said, eyes flickering towards the whip at Trevor’s side. “The Belmonts fought creatures of the night for generations, yet you don’t seem ready to destroy me.”

Trevor grinned at him, all blunt teeth now.

“Oh, I’m ready to destroy you,” he said. “But, I won’t; you might be useful.”

He wasn’t, couldn’t. He felt it in that place in his locked heart. It would kill him to destroy Alucard. He had already seen Alucard be cut down by his own father and that left a wound that had never healed.

Alucard arched an eyebrow.

“Oh? The Belmont’s killed vampires.”

Trevor swallowed. A twinge of pain and grief flickered through him. It had been long enough that it didn’t hurt anymore, much.

“We did,” he said, forcing calm into his tone. “But, you are half-human are you not?”

Alucard’s fingers, slightly sharper than a normal human’s, dug into his chin. He ignored them; he’d had worse.

“How do  _you_  know that,” Alucard hissed. His fangs were showing, sharpening.

Trevor smirked, deliberately unhooked the whip and let it fall. The clatter took Alucard’s stare off of him and he moved, wrenching away and stooping to pick up the whip.

“The Bishop mentioned burning Dracula’s wife. It’s not a stretch to think he had children. It was a guess. You just confirmed it.”

Alucard gestured with a hand and out of the coffin flew a long sword. Trevor sighed; he’d been hoping to avoid a fight.

“Belmont,” Sypha cut in, alarmed.

He waved a hand at her, unfurled the whip with the other.

“I know, I know. We need him. I won’t hurt him….much.”

Alucard lunged, fangs out. For a moment, Trevor was tempted to let him bite and see the memories in his blood. He dodged instead.

He flung the whip out. Had to dodge to avoid the sword, drew his own. Their blades met with a clang and Alucard vanished.

The shift of air behind him gave him just enough warning. The sword cut his cheek instead of his neck. The gash bled and Alucard’s eyes went wide. How long had it been since he had drunk his fill?

Trevor eyed him warily, sword held out in front of him, whip ready at his side. Thirsty vampires were deadly and he still wasn’t as good with the whip as he should be.

Aluard licked his lips and Trevor waved the sword warningly.

“ _No_ ”

Alucard laughed, diving at him again.

“I’m sure your blood would taste terrible Belmont. It wouldn’t be worthy of drinking.”

“Good,” Trevor snarled and flung the whip at him again.

They continued, dodging each other’s strikes and occasionally drawing blood. Trevor could feel himself tire, still not completely used to his human body. Alucard was tiring too. He could see it in the way his movements slowed, became easier to keep up with.

Then, fire blazed between them both. Hot enough that he could feel its heat sear into his skin. Would it burn? He couldn’t remember the last time he had burnt, but it would probably hurt.

“ _Enough_ ,” Sypha snapped.

Fire wound around her, sloping to touch the ground where it formed the wall between them. Her hair glowed in its light. Her eyes too, confident that they’d obey. She had never looked more beautiful.

Alucard looked at her and lowered the sword. Trevor lowered his too, sucking in breath as he tucked it into his belt.

“Let’s not do that again anytime soon.”

Reluctantly, Alucard nodded and Sypha smiled. The flames vanished, leaving no scorch marks upon the stone. But, they had felt hot enough to burn even stone.

“Good,” Sypha said, turning he back on them both. “Come on. We should go.”

He traded a look with Alucard and they followed. Though this body was relatively young, he felt old. Weariness tugged at him, nearly swallowed him up before he pushed it away.

Not now, not yet, not until the end. He ignored the part of him that whispered that there may never be an end and followed Sypha out of the catacombs.


End file.
